


England Likes Needles

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Consensual Kink, Deliberately Uncomfortable Positions, Fisting, Gags, Heavy Bondage, M/M, Needles, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Rimming, Sadomasochism, Safeword Use (Yellow), Subspace, actually I can't believe I wrote this, if you are squeamish about fingernail torture you might want to skip this, my fic titles are kind of stupid..., restricted breathing, sub's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 19:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2121144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some PWP with consensual BDSM. France tortures England with needles and then fucks him, followed by aftercare.</p><p>(An old fic from the kink meme)</p>
            </blockquote>





	England Likes Needles

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I'm only using this account for posting porn now.
> 
> So, this is an older fic which I posted in the kink meme ages ago. I just edited it a bit. I felt like posting something while I'm struggling with my current projects. And I wanted to prove that I _can_ in fact write top!France and bottom!England. Yay! Just wait until I prove I can write from a Dom's point of view too. Because I totally can.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

"Can you still breathe?"

Arthur gave a groan as a reply, muffled by the ball-gag.

"Good," Francis smiled and reached for the pile of sewing needles on his partner's chest. Arthur's eyes followed his hand as he picked one up and wiped it with with a paper towel dipped in disinfectant. Then the needle and the hand holding it disappeared from Arthur's eye range and he turned his face back towards the ceiling, breathing deep and waiting.

Francis took Arthur's pinky, the last finger still untouched, wiped it clean like the others and carefully forced the needle in.

Arthur drew a deep breath and writhed against his restraints. The pain was now so familiar that it didn't seem like pain anymore. Instead he realized that he could feel a mirror pain somewhere in the bottom of his stomach. He was pretty sure his cock was responding as well. 

Francis pushed deeper, deeper, until he was satisfied. (It felt like it was inches deep although it was probably hardly even half a one.) "You stopped breathing again," he told Arthur who forced the air out of his lungs and relaxed.

Arthur's hands were a bloody mess and they were shaking violently, the only thing keeping them in place were the straps that bound him to the rock bench. It was a more-than-a-little-uncomfortable position. He was lying on his back, his hands strapped on both sides. His legs were pulled over his upper body and tied over his head, baring his crotch perfectly for Francis. He could hardly breathe with his stomach squeezed against his diaphragm, which was why Francis had to check whenever he stopped.

"Good boy," Francis said contently. "Should we do your toe nails too?"

Arthur nodded. Or tried to. It was difficult in this position.

"Breathe, _cheri_."

Arthur hadn't even noticed this time. He obeyed.

Francis looked thoughtful. "Actually, I'm not sure. I think if I do your toe nails, you'll be too numb to feel it anymore. You already seem unfocused." He picked the rest of the needles up and set them aside on the side table right beside the bench which was there so he could have quick access to everything he needed.

He leant over Arthur and lifted his face up with a gentle hand, looking at him in the eyes and admiring his gagged, sweat-covered face.

Francis let his hand slide along Arthur's chest and shift to caress his leg while the other hand joined it on the other leg. "What pretty sight you are like this." It wasn't the first time he had said it today. "I can't wait to fuck you. But not quite yet." He slid his hands on the insides of Arthur's thighs and then lower, on both sides of his hole. 

First he teased it gently with his fingers, then Arthur felt something warmer and wetter. Francis' breath heated the sensitive area and his tongue licked it, going round and round.

Arthur thought he was surely going to explode. He was shaking hard. His eyes were blurred with tears.

"Breathe," Francis murmured. The feeling of sound waves tingling his crotch made Arthur's first breath a tight gasp. "Good boy," Francis said, smirking, and seemed to read his mind as he now continued licking while humming at the same time. The tongue made one shallow dip inside. Arthur gave a tiny sob.

Francis replaced his tongue with two slickened fingers that penetrated all too tentatively. Francis was just playing with him, Arthur knew. Then even the fingers left him.

There was a pause and a wet sound from somewhere nearby.

Then a whole hand, full of slick, lovely lube, grabbed his balls, massaging, spreading the lube all over. Arthur moaned weakly and tears ran down his tightly shut eyes. Francis laughed pleasantly. The hand was joined by another on his cock, spreading lube over there too. Then his whole crotch area was massaged, fondled and pleasured by skillful hands that moved around and on his genitals, never stopping, taking him into a slow, cradling sea of sensations. It was a perfect disconnection between his aching body, laboured breathing and... oh yes, his nails still had those needles under them. He couldn't feel them anymore.

One of the hands now returned to his arsehole. A finger went in, gentle. Too gentle. He writhed and groaned impatiently. Francis just chuckled and added another finger.

It was too much. No, it was too little, he thought feverishly. He couldn't stand it. He moaned and squeaked and thrashed his head in desperation. Francis laughed some more and refused to quicken the pace.

Arthur _screamed_. 

Francis' tone changed. "Arthur?" He jumped down from the bench and hurried around to unfasten the gag as fast as he could with his slippery fingers. "Arthur, what's your colour?" He asked with a careful voice.

Arthur was breathing hard. He managed to mumble out a "yellow".

"What is it?" Francis petted his hair gently, encouragingly. It didn't work very well with his sticky fingers but oh well.

"Harder," Arthur rasped out. "I can't--"

"You want me to go harder?"

"Hurt me."

"Alright." Francis kissed him quickly and returned then to the other side of the bench. He dipped his hand into some more lube that he had ready on the little table beside the bench. He rubbed around Arthur's hole experimentally for a second and then shoved four fingers in at the same time.

"Yeeeaah," Arthur moaned gratefully, throwing his head back as much as he could. Francis thrusted his hand in and out in shallow moves, and everytime a little bit more in than out, pushing his hand further. Arthur cried and repeated "yes, yes, yes..." over and over again. It didn't even hurt all that much but at least now he felt like he was actually being filled, wonderfully filled. Francis' hand now slided out almost completely, only to go back in, full force, and pressing even deeper. Arthur took it more than gladly.

Francis was breathing more heavily now, too. His other hand was massaging Arthur's thigh -- much more roughly than earlier and Arthur appreciated it. Finally Francis replaced his hand with his cock and started bounding into him hard and fast. It was almost alien, Francis almost never fucked him like this but he definitely wasn't complaining. In fact he was probably crying for more.

His cock was grabbed and he was jerked off almost painfully. His mind exploded in a burst of sparkles. 

And went blank. 

When he came to, he felt Francis' come dripping from his anus and his own wet on his stomach. He blinked. The world was looking rather blurry. There was something strange about his legs, too, that he couldn't quite place. They felt like they were sinking down, down, down...

 _Oh_. He realized Francis had untied them and laid them back down on the bench. Funny how unnatural it felt. And he could breathe easily again too.

Had that ceiling been there before? Suppose it must have. Funny how he hadn't noticed. 

He kept saying "funny" a lot in his mind, didn't he?

"Arthur?" There was a hand on his forehead, stroking. "Arthur?"

A light shape moved somewhere beside him.

"Arthur, come back. Come back, _cheri_."

He remembered he could move his eyes and so he moved them to the shape. He blinked. It was Francis.

"Arthur, you are supposed to reply to me."

Reply? Oh yeah. "Mm," he hummed testingly.

Francis smiled. "Yes, there you are." The hand kept stroking his head.

"Wow," Arthur said stupidly. "I feel funny."

"That's how you look too," Francis told him. "Welcome back."

"Thanks."

"Do you think you can drink a little now?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Francis helped him up and helped him drink a little water, most of which dribbled down his chin and neck and chest. Two cool streams of water, one on the inside and one on the outside, both heading down towards his stomach. Francis laid him back down. "How are you feeling, _cheri_?"

"Funny."

"Mm. I'll clean you up. Just take it easy."

Arthur could see and think clearly now. He felt Francis wipe his body with a wet towel. He could look around the room and it looked normal. But he felt like he wasn't... completely there. This happened sometimes but this time it was more intense than usual. He wondered if he could come back down at all from this one.

He pondered that it was a bit like leaving your body, then coming back in but not remembering how to put it on again.

Francis wiped his face now and then looked him in the eyes. "Still there?"

"Yeah."

"Still funny?"

"Yeah."

Francis kissed him gently. "It's alright. You're safe. I'll take care of you."

"I know."

Francis lifted him back into a sitting position and wrapped him into a blanket, rubbing his sweaty cold body to warm him up. Arthur felt dizzy so he asked Francis to help him down onto the floor. The bench was too high, he was afraid he might fall down. Francis did so and then fetched something which turned out to be the first-aid kit.

He took Arthur's hands and inspected them. Arthur looked at his hands too, at his fingers and the needles still under the nails. An emotion rushed through him and settled somewhere on the bottom of his belly. He couldn't tell if it was a good feeling or a bad one but it thrilled him.

Then Francis was about to pull the first needle out and Arthur yelled " _Stop!_ " surprising them both.

Francis stopped and looked at him, confused. "What is it?"

Arthur didn't really know himself. He just couldn't stand the thought of going through this before he was completely himself again. "I... I need to take a shower," he said finally.

" _Cheri_ , you can take a shower right after I take care of your hands."

"No. I need it now. I need it before you take them out." He stared at Francis imploringly, begging him to understand. "I'll go crazy, I swear I will if you take them out now. I need a cold shower."

Francis kept staring back, looking concerned, but he finally yielded. "Alright. Hold onto me well now. _Allez-hop!_ "

It felt so nice to be held. He was a bit too big for Francis to carry comfortably but the other man didn't seem to mind.

Francis took him to the bathroom and laid him down into the tub. Then he washed him with the shower handle, with cool water as requested. Arthur shivered but nodded when Francis asked if he should keep going. It was funny how cold water seemed somehow harder than warm water. He felt so, so cold but at the same time it felt so good, because it was such a clear feeling, it felt real, it felt cleansing. It brought his mind back to the physical world.

Francis didn't let him keep it up for long, though, despite his protests. "That's enough. I'm sorry, _cheri_ , but I can't trust your judgement right now, and I don't want you to get hypothermia." He was wrapped into a big towel and quickly dried off and rubbed warm. And then lifted up again as Francis carried him to the livingroom sofa.

He let drowsiness take over him. He was cool and warm at the same time, in a rather pleasant way. Francis held him and kept rubbing him gently. He was finally starting to feel normal. His mind could relax with his body.

The needles were still there. It was strange. He could hardly even feel them. They just were there. It was almost... somehow comforting, something to hold on to. He tried moving his fingers and luckily they still seemed to work. It stung a bit, which was almost a relief. Francis was keeping his hands still, though, holding his wrists to make sure he didn't forget them and hurt himself.

"Can I take them out now?" the other nation asked.

Arthur shook his head. "Just a little bit longer..." he mumbled. And fell asleep.


End file.
